


Hello, Sergeant Barnes

by The Kid From Brooklyn (logicalities)



Category: Avengers, Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protect Bucky at all costs, What is Civil War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logicalities/pseuds/The%20Kid%20From%20Brooklyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snapshots from Bucky's path back to being Bucky, with Steve leading the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Sergeant Barnes

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads-up: This is not a continuation of the events of Ant-Man's 2nd post-credit scene. One could call it an AU. I'm not going to try and write my own version of Civil War or anything (as fun as that would be). For the purposes of this story, Civil War is not even a thing. Thank you, and enjoy.

The first thing he notices is the lack of restraints on his wrists and ankles. Slowly, his eyes open, and he props himself up in bed. He can't remember the last time he had a real bed. Maybe he never has. The room is white and nondescript, and a window next to him shows an overcast sky and trees shedding orange and yellow. There's a mirror in front of him -- a two-way mirror, he presumes. 

He rubs his wrists, still struggling with the fact that he isn't bound in any way. He doesn't remember how he got here, but he remembers who. His failed mission, his target, the one named Steve.

Steve Rogers. He knew him. Something, a memory, pushes and niggles, threatening to rip the blank canvas of his mind. It's been there for months now. In his hideouts, he would look through newspapers, magazines, the Internet, consuming anything he could find on Captain America. He knew who Captain America was, and he even knew who Bucky Barnes was, but despite being armed with those facts, he could not recall being Bucky Barnes, or anything to do with him.

But he _knew him._

On the far side of the room, the door opens, and the man in question steps in, in the manner that one might step through a mine field. The Winter Soldier evaluates the imposing figure, dressed in a light jacket and khakis, the circles under his eyes and slumped shoulders giving up his exhaustion. He wonders how long Rogers has been awake, probably sitting just outside the room, watching him through the two-way mirror. If he wanted to, he could ambush Rogers now, snap his spine in two, and he'd never get the chance to react.

But, he notes, he doesn't want to. He should want to-he was supposed to kill this man months ago, and now he's been captured and detained. He doesn't have any desire to see this man die now. The drive has left his body.

Rogers approaches with visible caution. Pulling a blue plastic chair up to the bed, he sits on the Winter Soldier's right side. His mouth opens, then closes, opens again.

"You've been out for four days," he finally says. The Winter Soldier doesn't react.

"I'm sorry about the way we brought you in," he continues, running a hand through his messy hair. "I promise, nothing like that's gonna happen again. Wilson is sorry, too. You're at a government-run hospital in Washington, D.C., run by people who used to work for SHIELD. You were dehydrated and malnourished, along with your other injuries."

He nods.

"We can leave as soon as the doctor clears you."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Home," says Rogers with a humorless smile. "Well, to my home. For the time being, you're going to live with me. No surveillance or intrusions. It'll just be us. We can work on restoring your memory. Does that sound okay?"

"Yes," he replies, looking out the window. 

"If you don't want to do that, all you have to do is say the word."

"I do want to," he affirms.

Rogers sighs a little. "Alright. Just don't want you to feel like you're being forced."

"Bucky Barnes died," he blurts out. "1944. He died."

Rogers looks like he's been slapped.

"No," he says gently. "They thought he died, but he didn't. He fell off a train, and it was a long fall, but he survived. HYDRA brought him back to health and wiped his mind, and he became you. You're Bucky Barnes, and you're alive."

"I know," he replies. "I know all that. I'm not Bucky, though. Not yet."

Rogers is pale. "You think you will be?"

"I don't know. I want to be."

"...Can I ask you something?"

He nods, looking at the two-way mirror. Wonders who may be watching him now.

"Why did you pull me out of the water?"

There's a tinge of desperation in Rogers' tone. The Winter Soldier considers. The answer to this question had evidently been tormenting the hero for a while now.

"I'm not sure," he finally admits. "I...I felt that you were telling the truth. I do know you."

"Okay. Okay. Well, that's something." Rogers stands. "I'm going to go get the doctor now, so we can get out of here."

"I'll be here." The Winter Soldier manages to conjure up some semblance of a smile, even if it turns out more like a grimace. But Rogers smiles back, his eyes glassy, and leaves. 

He watches his past and future close the door behind him, silently speculating on how long the other man will look at him like that before he remembers what he did to deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is quite short, but not all the chapters will be this short, I promise! This is more of a prologue.  
> Feedback is highly appreciated. This is my first published Marvel fic, and the first fic I've posted in two years. I welcome any comments you may have. Updates may be sporadic, but I'll certainly post them if there's high enough demand. Thanks for reading :)


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